Healing
by Tigers are forever
Summary: Isabella receives a visit from somebody that she thought she would never see again. Will she take him up on his offer? Set at the beginning of season 4. Patrick/OC eventual romance. Sequel to Broken, so I would advise reading that first!
1. Chapter 1

**Yay for new stories. So I'm publishing this earlier than I thought I would so I'll have to get cracking with writing more chapters! I'm quite enjoying where this is going and have a few pivotal moments thought out but the in between bits are slightly more difficult to write but I'll do my best! So this is set a couple of months after Broken, so I would recommend reading that first so that it makes more sense. It will be a romance but a very slow romance, just to warn you. It's set just after the beginning of season 4, nowhere in particular but just around there. Rated T for now but we'll see as it goes on. I can't think of much more to say now other than enjoy! Thanks for reading.  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with the mentalist, only my stories and characters, so please don't sue me. **

* * *

For the past two and a half months, Isabella Sanders had been doing anything to keep busy. Most days she volunteered at a local animal shelter, helping with the cleaning and paperwork. On evenings, she prepared and dished out meals at a food bank for the homeless and in need. It kept her occupied; she found when she sat at home all day her mind would wander to some pretty dark places and she still couldn't deal with that quite yet. She'd received money from Richard's life insurance and, more recently, the sale of the house. She didn't get nearly as much as it was worth, but Issy had hurried along the sale and people don't like living in a house so fresh with murder. The money had allowed her to find an apartment to rent and prevented her from worrying about finding a job, for the time being anyway. She eventually wanted to get back into work as she needed the mental stimulation, but was certain that she wouldn't be able to concentrate for long enough to keep an employer happy. Those at the shelter and food bank knew of her situation and were understanding of it, meaning she could disappear for a few minutes, if ever she needed to, no questions asked.

She had been better when it came to eating and sleeping. Being around people helped with the eating, as they would all break for lunch, but she still rarely felt hungry. Her dreams were still as horrendous as ever, if not worse, though she was managing to at least get to sleep at a decent time and feel somewhat refreshed upon waking, even if she jerked awake countless times each night.

This night, however, had been particularly restless. Issy hadn't managed to sleep at all and by about 3am had resorted to watching late night TV. She flicked between reruns of quiz shows and old black and white films, though none of them held her attention for long. Her mind was too preoccupied with what would be happening in the morning. Her eyes flicked sporadically towards an opened letter on her bedside table. She had read it so many times since it had arrived a week ago that she almost knew it word for word, not that there was much to remember.

She was to report to the Sacramento supreme court at 10.30 on Saturday 15th April to act as a witness in the case involving the brutal murder of her husband and two children. The crime was committed by her former best friend Simon Parker, as admitted by him on a couple of occasions, so Isabella hoped that the jury would come to a quick decision.

Sighing, she climbed out of bed and headed towards the shower. She took her time, and dressed slowly in dark trousers and a light colored shirt. She tied her hair back neatly in a bun and applied a light layer of make-up to attempt to hide her shallow skin and the darkened patches under her eyes. She was unsuccessful, but decided it was the best she could do and left the apartment several hours early.

Issy hadn't seen Simon since the day of his apprehension over two months ago. She had tried not to think about him, too, though this was difficult considering he invaded her dreams most nights. She wasn't sure about how she felt about seeing him again. She seemed a lot stronger recently, but it was easy to be strong when she could wake up and run away from her past. It would be much harder face to face and with no escape.

She arrived at the court so early that it hadn't opened yet so she sat on a bench outside as she readied herself for the morning. It looked set to be a nice day, with the recently lightened sky a cloudless blue. There was a nice breeze in the air that ruffled the flowers that surrounded the building. Her mother had loved flowers, adopting a 'the more colorful the better' motto. Her mom had been her rock growing up, strict but fair, giving her a strong moral compass. She had never known her father, who had disappeared when he had realized that Issy's mother was pregnant all those years ago, and had never really had any desire to get to know him.

When her mom had gotten ill during her time at college, Issy didn't know how to cope. She'd never really had to deal with something like that before and so it had struck her hard. Issy visited her as often as she could, but it was difficult. She called every day to check up on her and sent her a different bunch of flowers each week until the day that she died. This was a tradition that she later stuck to on the anniversary of her mom's death, annually taking great care to find a perfect bunch to lay on the grave. Isabella realized, sadly, that she had missed it this year, with all that had been going on. February 14th, during her second year at college, was one of the worst days of Issy's life.

_They had only just returned to college from summer break, and Issy had been visiting Rich after months apart in the rented house he shared with a few of his friends. That was when she had gotten the phone call. _

_It had started off as a pretty regular conversation, 'hi, how are you' and 'what have you been up to'. Richard knew something was wrong when Issy had sunk to the floor and began to stare blankly at the wall. _

_"How long have you known?" Isabella's voice was strange and with little emotion. _

_She was silent for a while as her mother talked. Rich joined her on the floor holding her hand. She didn't seem to know he was there. _

_"Okay." She said, getting to her feet quickly. "I'm coming home." _

_She dashed around looking for her keys before stopping abruptly. "You don't want me there?" _

_She paused again for a second, before resuming her frantic searching. "Well if that's the only reason you don't want me to come, I'm coming. I'll see you soon." _

_She disconnected. "Where are my damn keys Rich?" She shouted, tears beginning to form in her eyes. _

_Her passed them to her from the table where she'd left them. "What's wrong, Iz?" _

_She could no longer hold back the tears, and choked out, "it's cancer. My mom's got cancer." _

_They had driven through the night to get to Issy's home. It was the first time that Rich had seen it, and her mother, for that matter, considering he and Isabella been pretty on-off lately. They had made small talk, but the night was really about Issy and her mom so he'd taken a back seat, making coffees and, as the night progressed, preparing stronger drinks. Together, they had laughed and cried, recalling some of the happiest moments they had shared together and slowly coming to the realization of what was happening. They cried themselves to sleep on the sofa bed. _

_The following morning was calmer. Issy's mom had set a strict no crying policy from now on as they started to prepare for the unpreventable situation that faced them. The doctor had told them that unfortunately the cancer had been caught too late, and that it was terminal, giving her a time frame of anywhere between one month and six left to live. But Issy's mom was a fighter, as she had told, more accurately slurred, the previous night, and made a promise to never give up, under her daughter's request. Isabella was just barely out of her teens, and couldn't bare to think of her mother not seeing her graduate from college. _

_Issy could not spend as much time with her mom as she wanted to the following few months. College work was piling up and needed to be completed. The Christmas holidays were a nice chance to take a break and spend some real quality time together. Her mom had seemed well and, at the time, Issy didn't question it. She later supposed that she so wanted for her to be getting better that she had seen it when it wasn't really there to see. It was only looking back that she could see that the pink glow that had always tinted her mother's cheeks was this time artificial, and that the laughing and joking when preparing the meal was to disguise the tiredness she was really feeling. _

_But all was good at the time, with her and Rich getting on well and her mom appearing to be okay. Even Simon, who Issy had seen very little of since the diagnosis, had come round and spent time with them all. Life was good. _

_That was until one February morning when the hospital called, informing Issy that her mother had been admitted and that she had best come to visit her. The journey home had been a blur. Emotions flew threw her head; she was angry and upset and frightened. Her mom was 45. That was no age for anybody to die, and it wasn't fair. Richard had driven her all the way to the hospital from college, ignoring Issy's protests, telling him to stay as he'd already missed too many classes. Issy could be very headstrong, but so could he, and so he very politely told her to be quiet and that nothing would stop him from coming with her. _

_When they found Issy's mom in hospital, Issy nearly broke down at the sight of her. She was so frail and thin and weak looking, and in that moment Issy hated herself. She hated herself for not visiting more often. She hated herself for not screaming at the doctors to do more when she was first diagnosed. She hated herself for ignoring what was so clear to see and for the denial that she was in. She couldn't hold back the tears as she collapsed into a chair by her mother's bedside and holding her hand tightly. _

_"Now what did I say about crying?" Her mother said, voice quiet and crackled and attempting a thin smile. _

_"What did I say about fighting?" Issy retorted. She always did this, redirected her anger, and it wasn't fair. "I'm sorry." _

_Her mother shook her head. "I tried, Issy, honey, but I can't fight anymore." _

_The pain in her voice was evident, and Issy went to look for a nurse to help her. As she was gone, Issy's mother turned to Richard, who was sat on the opposite side of the bed. They hadn't known each other for long, but Richard's charisma and obvious love of her daughter had shown her that he was a good person and they had built up a strong relationship in the previous months. _

_"I need you to look after my baby when I'm gone." Her voice broke slightly as tears welled at the thought of leaving Isabella on her own. "She's strong, but she'll need someone to help her through this. If you're as good a person as I think you are, then you'll be there for her." _

_"Of course." He promised, attempting to swallow the lump forming in his throat. _

_She was the mother he wished he had had; warm, generous and kind. He loved his own, no question, but when he had watched Issy and her mom together, laughing so hard they cried and sharing a bond so deep he couldn't help but feel a little jealous of their relationship. Richard held one of her hands between both of his and smiled at her encouragingly, hoping to convey his sincerity. _

_Issy returned, flustered and frantic, informing them that they couldn't up her mom's medication because she was already at her limit and sinking down in the chair again. _

_"Issy," her mom started, stroking her face with a pale, thin hand, "I love you more than anything in the world. You are going to go on to do such great things, I just know it. Go and help people, like you've always wanted to. You are so smart and beautiful and funny, and this one doesn't know how lucky he is to have you." _

_She jerked her head slightly to the side towards Richard who grinned at her words. Issy tried to laugh but it came out as more of a sob through the tears. _

_"If he gets out of line, I'll have a word with the big guy, tell him to put a curse on him or whatever." _

_"I'm not sure that's the way God works really, mom." Issy smiled, remembering previous conversations about religion that had revealed that her and her mother had a similar expectation of the afterlife; that there was none. _

_"Who said anything about God?" She smirked mischievously, which resulted in actual laughter from Issy at the thought of her mother being sat side-by-side with the devil. _

_They talked for a while, but it was evident that Issy's mom was deteriorating. She cringed, clutching Issy's hand tightly and looked sadly at her only child. _

_"I think this is it, honey. I love you. Promise me you won't be sad for too long, and don't shut yourself away. Let people help you from time to time." They all knew that she was talking about Rich. "This one's a keeper." _

_Her mom lifted Issy's hand to her face, kissed it gently and lay it back on the bed. With a final goodbye, she took her last breath and her eyelids closed slowly, her hand falling limp in Isabella's. _

_Issy wailed with grief, breath coming out in great sobs and huge tears rolling continuously down her face. Richard joined her, wrapping his arms around her and trying to offer some comfort. Issy refused to let go of her mothers hand until the nurses came to remove her body and even then she did so unwillingly. _

_The funeral was set up for the following week, during which time she stayed at her old home with Richard. It was so empty without her mothers presence, without her laughter bouncing off the walls. _

_The funeral was nice, tasteful and, above all, colorful, exactly as her mom would have wanted. Richard stood by her side throughout, as he had done during this whole horrible situation, offering moral support. It was this support that made Issy see Richard as more than just the silly little boy he had been to her just 6 months ago and instead as a rock, as a shoulder to cry on and as the first man that she had ever fallen in love with. She had told him this later and he had returned the words, their relationship intensifying through the grief that she was feeling. It may have seemed strange to other people, but when Richard later announced that they would name their first born girl after the extraordinary woman that had died before her years, Issy fell even deeper in love with this man that she'd spent so much time with recently. And so, as suggested so many years previously, little Elizabeth Sanders was named after the grandmother she would never meet, Elizabeth Flynn, the greatest woman that Isabella had ever known. _

From then on, valentines day was a day of mourning. It had never really been something she'd taken seriously and, other than the exchange of her and Simon's cards when they were younger, she had never celebrated it. A few years after the death, Richard had turned it into something silly, buying her something cheesy to make her smile. He had always known how to make her smile.

By the time she'd come round to her senses, people were milling in and out of the court. Checking her watch, she noticed it was almost ten and so decided to enter the building as well. She was directed to a room in which she was supposed to stay until she was called for.

She had waited for a sufficient enough time to build up her nerves. Maybe she couldn't do this? She had no rock anymore. He was gone, thanks to the man she was about to face at any minute. A woman came to lead her to the court room. Heart hammering and beginning to sweat, she entered the room.

Her eyes flickered over the people in the room, from the judge to the jury and then settling on the defendant. He'd dressed smartly in a suit and combed his hair back, looking presentable and every bit as evil as she knew him to be. He smiled at her as she walked to her spot and she continued to stare at him. She declared to tell the truth to the judge and sat down shakily as the prosecutor stepped forward to begin questioning. She was a little older than Issy, with long, straight, blonde hair similar to her own.

"Mrs Sanders. You arrived home late from work on the night of the murders. Can you tell us what you saw?"

Isabella cleared her throat and looked right at Simon before starting. "I saw my husband and two children lying dead on the floor having had been stabbed to death. Then, I saw Simon, covered in their blood."

"In your interview, you said that Mr Parker had admitted to these murders. Is this really the case?"

"Yes. He was... happy about it. He told me that he'd done this for me, so that we could be together."

"And, at any point, did you suggest to Mr Parker that this was what you wanted?"

"No. Never. I loved my family." Issy's voiced trembled slightly, and she cleared her throat to disguise it. "I would never have wanted this to happen."

"What happened after the suspect admitted to the crime?"

Issy took a deep breath before responding. "He raped me."

The jury looked between each other muttering quietly. All the time, Simon had been watching Isabella curiously.

"No further questions, your honor." The prosecutor said, taking her seat again.

The defense was called forward. The name tag on his desk told Issy that he was called John Nelson. He was short and strutted over confidently towards Isabella. As he did so, she looked around the room, spotting Patrick and Teresa in the crowd of people. Jane offered an encouraging smile.

"Is it true, Mrs Sanders, that Simon Parker has been your best friend since you were children?"

"He was, yes." Issy stressed the past tense.

"And, is it also true that growing up you told him that you would, and I quote, 'be together forever'?"

"I suppose so." She frowned. "Kids say that kind of stuff, don't they?"

"Yes, yes they do." He said nodding. "Is it possible, do you think, that maybe Mr Parker took this to be true? And that maybe, as you grew up, he expected a bit more than friendship?"

"No. He knew I loved Richard, and I told Simon that he was only ever my friend."

"Must have been hard on him, though, coming to love you and have you love someone else, all the while being sent mixed signals-"

"I never once sent mixed signals!" Issy countered.

"So you say." He looked at her pointedly. "And you're sure that you didn't express to Mr Parker that you intended to deepen your relationship?"

"Objection, your honor, the question has already been asked."

"If you have no further questions, then take a seat." The judge looked bored.

"Sorry, your honor." Nelson said to the judge. He turned to face Issy again. "Is it also true that you and your husband argued on the morning of your families death?"

"Yes. We did." Issy looked down, ashamed. This was something that she had to carry with her for the rest of her life, that the last words exchanged between herself and her husband weren't representative of how they really felt about each other.

"And so, it might be possible that you had in fact asked Simon to do this? To pave the way for a new life. And," he said, now addressing the jury, "we all know that there's a fine line between rape and consensual sex, don't we?"

"Excuse me?" Issy exclaimed. "How could you even suggest any of that? I loved my family more than anything and I would never... it wasn't consensual." She finished through gritted teeth, eyes welling with tears. No, she wouldn't give Simon the pleasure of seeing her cry over him. She held them back with difficulty, glaring at Nelson.

"We all fall out with people, and screaming kids can be annoying, can't they?" He directed at Issy. "No one would blame you for snapping one day, maybe taking it out on your family and asking Simon here to do your dirty work for you."

Issy couldn't believe this. She frowned at the judge.

"If you have no further questions I urge you to sit down, as that is the second time you have asked the same thing twice." The judge told Nelson, a look on his face indicating his lack of approval.

Nelson shrugged smugly and sauntered his way back over to his place.

"Where did they find that guy?" Isabella heard Patrick mutter not so quietly.

The judge looked up in warning and Jane motioned zipping his lips.

"Does the accused have anything more to say?" The judge asked.

Simon cleared his throat. "I did it. I killed all of them. I had decided to kill them years before, but only then found the perfect opportunity. The husband, first, as he would have been the most difficult. I stabbed him multiple times. Then the boy-"

The judge banged his gavel. "That's enough."

The jury squirmed uncomfortably in their seats and Nelson held his head in his hands. They were dismissed, told to take their time and to come back when they had reached a decision. Isabella stayed seated during this time, doing everything in her power to avoid looking at the crazed glint in Simon's eye. He showed no remorse whatsoever. She hadn't really expected him to, but it hadn't made being faced with the realization any easier.

The jury returned, with one male member standing a little uneasily.

"Has the jury arrived at a verdict?"

"We have." The man said.

"And how do you find the defendant?"

"Guilty of rape and multiple cases of first-degree murder. We would suggest life imprisonment without chance of parole, considering the prosecution hasn't pressed for the death penalty."

"Agreed. Take him away. Court adjourned." The judge once again banged the gavel.

Simon's glare never left Isabella's face as he was led out of the room, and she prayed that this would be the last time she would ever have to be in such close proximity with that monster.

Exiting the court building, Isabella sighed. She still felt no different. The finality of it all was nice, knowing that Simon would be behind bars until the day of his death, but the pain was just the same as it always was.

She made her way to her car, noticing Patrick's in the lot too and thinking that it would have been nice to talk to him. She looked around for him but when he still was nowhere to be seen she decided just to drive back to her apartment.

She was beginning to feel tired due to her lack of sleep the previous night and changed quickly into sweats and a vest top. The trial had finished sooner than expected and so no one was expecting her to volunteer today, and besides, she needed to think about the mornings events. She had just settled down on the worn sofa, ready for a nap, when there was a knock at the door. Expecting the postman, Isabella was particularly surprised to find instead Patrick Jane, sporting a similar three piece suit to the one he had been wearing when they had seen each other last those months ago.

"Patrick! What are you doing here?"

He smiled at her. "Just checking up. How're you doing?"

"Better." She responded, feeling that finally she could say so truthfully.

"You look better." He noted.

She looked down at the sweatpants she was wearing, thinking he must have been joking, but saw no sarcasm in his features. She didn't need to pull the strings quite so tightly to hold then up anymore, she realized. Perhaps that was what he meant. "Uh, thanks I guess."

He stood awkwardly at the door for a few seconds.

"Oh, sorry. Come in. It's not much, just a place to sleep really." Issy cleared papers and old plates from a coffee table attempting to hide the mess.

Patrick entered the apartment, eyes scanning everything. It was only small, with only a few rooms separating the space of the bottom floor apartment. There was one bedroom, a bathroom and an all-in-one kitchen, dining room and living area. It was messy, messier than her last home, in fact, with clothes dumped in corners and papers littering every available space. There were noticeably less possessions than Patrick had expected. There didn't seem to be much more than he had provided for her months ago when she had left her previous home, other than the furniture that looked like it had been there when she moved in. There was no eating table, he noticed, so she must have been eating out or on her knees most nights. Shiny, metal containers stuffed into a bin and a pile of takeaway pamphlets suggested that she hasn't yet gotten back into a routine of normality, but that wasn't uncommon with how recently her life had taken a complete U-turn.

"Can I get you a drink of anything?" Issy asked.

"Tea would be lovely." Patrick said as he tilted his head to read one of the printouts on the coffee table. Some involved news stories of criminal activity in the area, others held real reports of wanted suspects.

Isabella noticed Patrick looking as she prepared his tea and, embarrassed, said, "I know I shouldn't have some of that stuff but I asked the guys at my old office for it, just to keep me busy. Guess it's kind of hard-wired. It seems to be the only thing that stops me from thinking about them."

She brought his tea to him and settling down on the sofa. He joined her, taking a sip of his drink.

"You put the milk in first." He said, impressed.

"Yeah, don't most people?" She asked confused. "So, how are you Patrick? I heard about all of the Red John stuff."

He smiled sadly, surprised that Issy had remembered with all that had gone on in her life recently. "Unfortunately the man that I shot wasn't Red John. He was an imposter."

"Oh." She said, sipping her own drink. "So you killed-"

"A man who deserved to die." He finished for her.

She shrugged, not wanting to get into a debate. He noted this, along with Isabella's obvious avoidance of the death penalty for Simon, and came to the conclusion that killing was obviously not something that she agreed with lightly.

"What are you doing here, Patrick?"

He placed his cup down on the table before answering. "You're a good cop. Excellent, according to your peers, and you've not been doing much with your time recently, at that shelter and food bank."

Issy frowned. "I wouldn't say that. How do you even know about it?"

"It doesn't matter." He said waving a hand dismissively. "I'm here to offer you a job, at the CBI. We've been receiving more and more cases recently and could do with an extra agent to keep up with it all. We've interviewed a couple of people but none of them seem particularly up for it."

Issy looked unsure. "I don't know, Patrick. I'm not sure I'm ready to be back doing something like that full time. It's a big responsibility."

"One that I know you're up to. You said yourself that you've been trying to keep busy, what better way than to get back into the field?" He smiled that encouraging smile again that, against her better judgement, made her trust him. "Just give it a couple of weeks. If it doesn't work out you can walk away, and go back to mucking out and filing adoption papers."

"You shouldn't mock." She told him. "Hard work for not a lot of money, those people do a good job."

"They do." He agreed. "But it isn't what you're meant to be doing."

She thought for a while, running a hand through her hair as she did so. "Fine. Just for a couple of weeks."

"Great!" He exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "I'll see you Monday, then."

Issy followed him hastily to the door. "Monday?"

"Yeah. Gives you time to let your volunteer places know and... do whatever it is you need to do." He said vaguely. He squeezed her shoulder. "You're doing the right thing."

"Uh, okay."

He grinned at her once more, and started down the path to his car.

She paused before realizing what had just happened and shouted after him, "hey, don't be trying that hypnosis mumbo jumbo on me, it won't work you know!"

Patrick chuckled as he readied himself for the short trip back to the bureau. He was rather excited about the new addition to the CBI team. She was smart, and knew her stuff when it came to policing. He was certain that she would be of great help to them. First, though, he thought with a smile, he would have to tell Lisbon about his covert recruitment.


	2. Chapter 2

**Second chapter is uppp, hope that you enjoyed the first. I was absolutely elated to receive the reviews that I did and would love for that to continue! Hint, hint! Anything that you want to say about the characters or the way the stories going would be welcomed because I'd love some feedback on it, such as whether you like the way I'm portraying everyone etc. So, yeah, thanks again and I hope that you enjoy this one.  
**

* * *

Teresa Lisbon had had a bad weekend. A bank robbery gone wrong had gone worse under her control, resulting in several casualties and the death of the robber. She'd been given a hard time from Wainwright, deservedly so, and was still angry at herself for the whole situation. She was also pretty angry at Jane, who had, acting like a kid revelling in the scolding of his sibling, suggested to the chief that they employ another agent. He had come round to Jane's not so subtle persuasion. It wasn't that Teresa was against Isabella joining the team; in fact she welcomed it if it would calm Jane down a bit, which she was sure it would, considering he would be around someone of similar circumstances to himself. Besides, she really did seem to be an excellent officer. No, what had really riled Lisbon was the way in which Patrick had gone about the suggestion; behind her back as always. She had heard nothing about it until being called into the Wainwright's office the previous afternoon to find Patrick sitting comfortably on the sofa with that unnerving smile of his.

"Teresa." Wainwright started in greeting. "Patrick was telling me about your thoughts to hire another agent. An Isabella Sanders, is that right?"

Lisbon stared blankly at Jane.

"Oh, come now Lisbon, don't be so modest." Patrick addressed her, then turned to agent Wainwright. "She had commented on how short staffed we've seemed recently and her first thought was a currently out of work former Truckee PD employee. Wow, all of that rhymed."

"Well, I see no harm in giving her a shot. Plus, it does even out the team for assignments. Good work, Lisbon."

Everything decided, Lisbon and Jane left the office.

"What the hell was that about?" Lisbon whispered angrily.

"I figured you needed back in his good books. Besides, we do need more agents."

"And you couldn't have given me a couple of minutes warning?"

"Meh, you did fine without it. Looked completely competent in there. Good work, Lisbon." He echoed Luther's words with a smirk as he went to make himself a cup of tea.

God help the poor girl joining the team, Lisbon thought. She'd worked with him for years and still couldn't control Patrick Jane. She hoped that Isabella could fair a little better.

Even after Jane's encouragement, Issy was nervous about starting on Monday morning. She'd been at the shelter the previous day and told them about her new job and they'd all been very supportive. They really were a nice group of people. She told them to stay in touch and that if she got any free time she would pop in to see them all.

Issy had woken early on Monday morning but, with having a good few hours sleep, managed to feel at least alert. She had showered and dressed smartly, deciding to arrive at the bureau in plenty of time. She hated starting a new job but at least this time she had already met her colleagues and they seemed to be nice. Besides, Patrick would look out for her, right?

CBI headquarters was only about 20 minutes away which was a lucky coincidence. Or maybe it wasn't quite so coincidental; perhaps she had been subconsciously keeping an eye on the building when looking for places to live.

When she arrived at the building, Issy told a man on the front desk that she was to join the serious crimes unit. He introduced himself as Mark, told her that he'd been expecting her and led her to a room in which he gave her a badge and gun. It sounded stupid but she had never really felt that comfortable carrying guns. She knew how to use one, and was a decent shot when she got the chance, but had rarely had the opportunity and was doubting her level of experience.

Nervously, she made her way up to the correct floor and was greeted by Teresa Lisbon.

"Nice to see you again, agent. How are you?" Lisbon asked, concerned.

Issy smiled. "I'm good, thanks. It will be nice to get back to work."

Lisbon nodded, understanding. She led her past the kitchen and to the room where the agents she'd be working with were. She recognised them all, of course, and so the introductions were more of a formality than a necessity. Patrick was no where to be seen, Issy observed as she glanced towards the sofa.

"He's not here yet. He'll probably meet us at the scene." Agent Rigsby informed her with a kind smile. "You'll learn to appreciate these quiet moments, you don't get many of them with Jane around."

Van Pelt had told Issy that the desk in front of hers was free and that should she want to she could occupy that one. There was definitely something different about the woman; she had a dark intensity about her that seemed to have taken over some of the joyfulness that has been there previously. Issy supposed that this would happen if you'd shot your fiancé like she had and felt that, even though under completely different circumstances, Grace and herself might find they had a little more in common that Issy had originally thought. Isabella thanked her and accepted, sitting down a little sure of what to do with herself. She looked around and noted sadly that she hadn't anything to put on her desk like the other agents did. She had pictures set up in her apartment, and frames had littering the office back in Truckee, but since her family's death their images had become quite a personal thing, almost something that she didn't want to share with anyone else.

"We ready to go?" Lisbon addressed the other agents and the turned to face Isabella. "We got a call just before you arrived; a 22 year old woman has been found dead in a park about an hour away from here. We'll take a couple of cars in case we need to follow anything up."

Out of the frying pan, Issy thought to herself as she stood ready to set off. Issy joined Van Pelt in the back of the car, with Cho driving, and they began the journey to the crime scene. The two friends made casual conversation for the journey with Issy chipping in here and there. She liked them both, particularly Van Pelt, though Cho's dry sense of humour suited Issy's and reminded her of Richard's brother's, Peter.

They arrived at the scene; a park that, when not sectioned off, seemed to be quite pretty and popular. Lisbon and Rigsby had gotten there first and were looking around.

The body was fully clothed in knee length jeans and a vest and lay face down in the grass beside an area of trees. Her hair had clumped together with clotted blood where she had been struck but was otherwise a mousy blonde. Some highlights had been pulled through but her roots were showing badly and so hadn't been renewed in at least 3 months. She was slight, but not skinny, with lightly muscled arms and thighs and bitten nails.

"The victim is an Angelica Walters. Hit over the head with a blunt object that hasn't been recovered yet. Coroners suggest time of death to be around 9pm. Local PD have told us she's the daughter of a farmer; she lived with him." She paused as she looked at something behind them all. "Ah, Jane, so you've decided to show up?"

They turned to face him. He walked towards them, bowing arrogantly with a smirk. "Fashionably late, I believe is the term?"

"Just hurry up and look over the body so we can start questioning people." Lisbon said a little grumpily.

He crouched down beside the woman, looking over the most minute details and 'hmm'-ed. He stood and looked at Issy. "What do you think?"

They looked at her. "Um..." She started. She hated to be put on the spot. "Well... I would suggest a crime of passion, given the way she was killed, over one that was planned. The body has also been left out on display and doesn't appear to have been moved, so that also hints towards a disorganized crime."

Patrick nodded encouragingly and gestured for her to continue.

"No evidence of assault, sexual or otherwise, at least other than the obvious to her head as her clothes are intact. I would also suggest that she hadn't planned on staying out for as long as she did, given how cold it would have been at 9 and that she didn't bring a coat."

"Maybe it was stolen?" Van Pelt added.

"Her phone was left. If she'd been robbed they would have taken that too." Lisbon said before adding, "nice work Sanders."

Issy couldn't help but smile.

"Yes, not bad. You missed some pretty fundamental things, but passable for a first try." Jane commented.

Her smile faltered slightly.

"Let's go speak to the dad." Lisbon said to Jane and Cho. "The rest of you ask around, find out if anyone saw anything."

They split up, with Issy, Van Pelt and Rigsby going to talk to the man who had found Angelica.

"Don't worry about Jane." Rigsby said sympathetically to Isabella. "He's like that with everyone."

Lisbon, Cho and Jane had arrived at the farm house and been welcomed in by the victim's father. The man's eyes were red with previously shed tears and exhaustion when they had gotten there and he had evidently been working that morning, given what he was wearing.

"Can I help you?" His voice was wearing and cracked.

"Mr Walters? Agents Lisbon and Cho." Lisbon flashed her badge and indicated to herself and Kimball. "This is Patrick Jane; he's a consultant. We're here to ask you a few questions about your daughter. May we come in?"

He allowed them inside and they sat in the living area on new leather sofas and chairs. They didn't suit the space, Patrick thought. The house was old with character and the modern furniture didn't look right next to the old coal burning fireplace and stained wooden coffee table. A woman entered the room followed by a border collie, which growled lightly, unsure of the visitors. The woman stopped startled.

"They've come to talk about Angie." Mr Walters explained.

"Oh." She said. "Well, I'll leave you to it then, Joey." She waved and forced a smile.

"Mrs Walters, I presume?" Lisbon asked, continuing when she nodded. "You might want to stick around, we'll need to ask you some questions too."

She reluctantly took a seat beside her husband, perfectly manicured nails resting on her designer jeans. She was at least 15 years younger than her partner and didn't seem to suit the environment, much like the furniture.

"Did your daughter tell you why she went to the park yesterday evening?" Lisbon asked.

"Ange was training to be a teacher. She'd sometimes meet up with some of the kids there to get them out of the house, you know? A lot of them don't have great family lives so she wanted to give them a bit of an escape. She was so nice like that; got that from her mother. "

"And where is Angelica's birth mother?" Patrick asked. As a response to the confused looks he received, he continued. "Well, you didn't look to your wife when talking about Angelica's mom, and this lady here doesn't look old enough to have a 22 year old daughter."

The woman smiled at Patrick for the compliment, lip glossed lips pulled up towards her high set cheeks.

"She died 8 years ago. Cancer. That's when we got Kelly. She was meant for the farm, really, but she helped us get through such a tough time." He nodded towards the dog who was still watching them wearily. "Sorry, she doesn't get off the farm much, she's not keen on strangers."

He put his head in his hands masking his tears as his wife fidgeted.

Jane focused his attention on her. "So Mrs Walters-"

"Denise. 'Mrs' makes me feel old." She interrupted.

"Denise, then. Why are you in such a hurry to leave your grieving husband?"

She opened and closed get mouth before responding affronted. "We need to eat, don't we? I'm sad but I gotta keep busy."

"Hmm. So how did you and Angelica get along? Must have been tough to welcome a new woman into the home." Jane probed.

"We were good friends. We were quite similar, so we got on well. We used to go out every other week together, do something girly; get away from the muddy farm..."

Patrick looked disbelieving. "And you're selling the farm, right? How did Angelica feel about that?"

"She hated the idea. She grew up here and this was her home." Joey replied sighing. "But there's just no money here anymore. The land is worth a fortune to build on, so selling it would set us up for the rest of our lives. I would have been able to give Ange a bit of security, help her with her career, put a deposit on a new house. That was the thinking behind it anyway."

Patrick smiled at Denise. "Motive."

"Excuse me?!" She exclaimed standing hastily. "What exactly is it that you're suggesting? You know what, I don't have time for this."

She left, slamming the door as she excited the house with Jane quickly following her.

"Just one last thing." He addressed Denise. "What would you and Angelica actually be doing when you told your husband you were spending the day together?"

"Exactly what I said we were." She replied curtly.

"Uh, no you weren't. Angelica was a tom boy through and through. I would guess that you went once a few months ago to a hairdressers and neither of you particularly wanted to repeat the experience. You both kept up the pretence for Joey because it made him happy."

Denise sighed, angry that this man seemed to be able to read her mind. "Okay, fine. She used to go off and do her thing, with those kids or something." She frowned, shaking her head confused. "What was I supposed to do, we were so different. I tried so many times to get through to her but she just didn't care about that stuff."

Denise looked as though she couldn't comprehend how anyone could possibly not enjoy a day of pampering. She turned to leave before spinning around and adding, "and before you ask, I was here last night with Joey. You've gotta understand, I am terribly sad about Angie's death. We didn't see eye to eye but I'd have never wished any harm on her."

Patrick thanked her for her time and allowed her to get on with what was obviously so important to her, waiting until Lisbon and Cho exited too.

Patrick watched her walk away. She didn't look like a killer; too much mess, and Patrick decided that she most likely had nothing to do with the murder. The only crime she was guilty of was extorting her husband.

"Thank you so much for your time, Mr Walters, and we're so sorry for your loss. We'll be in touch with any information." Lisbon told Joey.

Teresa pulled out her phone quickly, dialling a number and holding it to her ear. "Van Pelt. Talk to some of the kids that Angelica met up with yesterday. They might have seen her later that night or known why she stuck around for so long. Ask about someone named Nicholas. We'll meet back up at the bureau later."

The three got into the car.

"The wife look good for it?" Lisbon asked Jane.

"Not sure. Could have hired someone, I suppose, but I wouldn't have thought so."

Lisbon nodded. "Mr Walters also told us about a Nicholas, who Angelica would meet up with occasionally so he's worth investigating."

And with that, the three headed back to the bureau.

"Thanks for your help." Rigsby said to the man who had discovered the body. It had looked unlikely that he had done it or seen anything before speaking to him, but after questioning he seemed even less worth pursuing. He was just a jogger who had happened to stumble across the woman. Almost literally, from what he had told them, though Issy suspected that he might have expanded the truth a little. Van Pelt had spoken to an officer, telling her that the children she was often with were 'a bad bunch, and their parents are no better'. He gave them a couple of addresses for the kids and gone about his business.

They arrived at the first address to find a group of young teenagers huddled outside of a house. They all had battered bikes or skateboards and some wore clothes that didn't fit them properly. They eyed the agents cautiously as they made their way over to the group.

One bravely shouted out, "is it true about Angie?"

"Why, what have you heard?" Rigsby asked back.

"That she's dead." Said a small, brunette girl, donning a pink beanie. Isabella swallowed the lump forming in her throat at the familiar object.

"I'm afraid that's the case, yes. We'll need to speak to you all about her death. Which of you is Cassie Jevons?"

"Who wants to know?" The same girl piped up.

"Nice to meet you Cassie, I'm agent Rigsby, and these are agents Van Pelt and Sanders. We will need to talk to each of you in turn."

The three split up, with Issy talking to two boys. The both looked about 15 and as though they had little else to do, and spouted the same information; that they had left Angie in the park at about 6:30 pm. They seemed genuinely upset, as though they'd lost a real friend and didn't quite know how to deal with it. She got the feeling that most of these kids couldn't just go home and talk to their parents about this. When asked what they would do when they met with Angie, they had told her that they would do whatever they wanted to do. They would play sport, or go through previous lessons or just talk about something that they wanted to talk about. She had never patronised them, they had told Isabella, and considering many of them came from one parent families, from reasons varying from death to imprisonment, they felt like they could relate to Angie who had lost her mother at an age that many of them were currently at.

Angie was a freshly graduated student teacher who had been working at a local high school for the past 6 months or so. She had recognised some of the children out on the street one night and they had talked, revealing their lack of things to do . She had then arranged for some of them to get together from time to time, in a kind of secret club that made them all feel quite special in a way that they had been missing out on in their families.

"Do you have any idea why Angelica may have stayed out late that night? Might she have been meeting anyone?" Isabella asked one of the boys. He sat on a rusting bike and his clothes were worn and scruffy, the result, she assumed, of hand-me-downs from a sibling.

He shrugged, trying to act disinterested but the tear tracks running down his face gave away his true feelings. "She's been talking about this Nicholas recently. He's some junkie that she wanted to help, I guess, so she could have been seeing him."

She thanked him for his time and rejoined the others.

"Nicholas seems to have made an impression on these guys." Issy commentated.

"Yeah he came up a lot with mine as well. One kid mentioned seeing Angelica talking to someone on her cell before she they left. Apparently it got pretty animated. The boss called and asked us to head back to the office so we'd better get going."

The journey back to the bureau was even more enjoyable than to the scene. Issy felt more comfortable around her colleagues and found she could joke around with them. Wayne Rigsby really was a nice guy who, Issy felt, had welcomed her into the group wholeheartedly and without reserve. She noticed the flicker of his eyes to Van Pelt's whenever he made her laugh and the smile that he would give in acknowledgement and deduced that perhaps there had been, or would be, something between them.

When they had gotten back to the office, Lisbon had informed them that she and Rigsby would stay and do some digging while Issy and Patrick and Cho and Van Pelt would pair up and return to the area of the crime.

Issy was to visit Nicholas Pearson, the 24 year old that Angelica Walters seemed to be involved with. His address had been found courtesy of his previous for possession and dealing. He lived with his mother, Mary, who Nicholas seemed to have gotten his delinquency from through her long track of petty crimes.

Patrick and Isabella set off a little after lunch, during which Issy had picked half heartedly at a sandwich. They took Patrick's little blue car that, on closer inspection, seemed pretty old regardless of how well kept it was. Patrick had a tendency to drive more than a little over the speed limit, to Issy's horror, causing her to brace herself on numerous occasions over the duration of the trip. She had hoped that he hadn't seen her, but could think of no other reason for the slight smile that appeared on his face whenever she flinched at a sharp turn. They arrived thankfully unharmed and much more quickly than they had that morning. The house of the Pearson's wasn't much to be desired. It was small and run down and not in a particularly pleasant area. They knocked twice before anyone answered.

"What d'you want?" A plump lady of about 50 asked, cigarette in hand and frown on her heavily wrinkled face. Her hair had been recently done, seemingly professionally, and a pair of diamond earrings hung from her ears. Issy couldn't be sure if they were real or not.

"We're from the CBI, please could we speak to your son?" Isabella asked, happily realising that it had been the first time that she'd been able to use the CBI as her employer.

"What's he done now? You know what, I don't even wanna know, come in." Ms Pearson said, allowing them access into her home. It was a bit grotty and dark; not the kind of place you'd want to spend too long in. Having looked around the house, which had some of the latest gadgets littered around the rooms but was cringe inducingly filthy, Issy concluded that the earrings were most likely fake. "He went out a bit ago, shouldn't be long."

"Nicholas hasn't necessarily done anything ma'am. We're just inquiring about a murder." Issy informed as she perched on a chair. She knew that she wasn't exactly the neatest of people, but this was something else. It looked like it hadn't been dusted or vacuumed in several months.

"Oh, anyone I might know?" She asked.

"Angelica Walters, she appeared to be close to your son."

At the mention of Angelica's name, Mary's mouth dropped open, nearly dislodging her cigarette. "Damn. She seemed a nice girl, helping all those poor kids out. Nicky told me about her and what she did for the community."

"Where was your son last night?" Issy asked.

"I don't know. He went out at about 8, didn't come back until I was asleep." Mary shrugged.

At that moment, the front door opened. "Ma, I'm home." A deep, male voice said. He walked into the room and froze, asking "Who are your friends?"

"Nicolas Pearson? We're with the CBI-" Isabella started but before she had time to finish what she was saying, Nicholas bolted from the room and out of the house.

"Uh oh." Patrick said, particularly unhelpfully, Issy thought, as she sprinted after him.

Patrick peered out of the window, noting how quickly Issy ran as she charged into Nicolas and cuffed him. She picked herself up slowly, wincing as she stretched her legs, and pushed Nicolas back towards the house.

"You ready to go? Well question him at the bureau." Issy said, not with quite the charisma she had held when she first arrived at the Pearson residence. Without waiting for an answer, she turned towards the car, limping ever so slightly.

"Grumpy, isn't she." Patrick said to Mary, inclining his head towards Isabella. She smiled weakly at him and watched with concern as her son was marched to the powder blue Citroen.


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm sorry it's been so long but I've been really busy recently and wheen I have been free I've struggled to find inspiration! Perhaps the new season will help... Thanks again so much for the reviews, I really appreciate them! They encourage me to get chapters out more quickly, so just imagine what it would be like if you didn't review... a scary thought. Enjoy!  
**

* * *

"Why did you run from us Nicolas?" Issy asked the skinny, shallow faced man in front of her.

"I've been arrested before for stuff. I don't wanna go to jail." He replied, arms folded defensively across his chest and chin held high with over confidence.

"So you're telling us that you ran because you're still dealing." Rigsby, who'd joined Isabella in the interview, said. Nicolas shrugged. "And it has nothing to do with the death of of Angelica Walters?"

This derailed him. His eyebrows knit in grief and he had to support his head with his hands. "What do you mean her death? She's not dead. You're lying!" He turned on them, standing up aggressively.

Rigsby stood, too, and firmly told him to calm down. Nicolas did so, wisely, Issy though, considering he stood a few inches shorter and at least 50 pounds of muscle behind the CBI agent.

"You met with Angelica last night. What did you talk about?" Rigsby prompted, keen to get back on with the interview.

"No." Was Nicolas' simple reply.

"No you didn't meet with Angelica? Because we have several witnesses placing you with her at about 9pm-"

"No! I mean yes, I did go and see her. She rang me to meet with her but I didn't stay with her long. We argued so I left."

"What did you argue about?" Issy asked, feeling as though they might hit a breakthrough.

"She's been bugging me to move out of the house I'm in for weeks. Says that my mom's no good for me, that she's the reason that I got into drugs in the first place. Ange told me that her dad said he'd set her up with a house, and that if I needed to I could stay with her for a while, just until I found my own place. I should start 'investing in my future', she said. She was doing it from a good place but she's my mom, you know? I can't just leave her."

"That's understandable. I mean, who was she to tell you what to do with your life?" Rigsby started, looking to Issy for back up.

"Sure, I'd get mad too. You're a grown man, making your own money, and good money, too, I'd expect. You can do what you want with it."

Nicolas looked between the two, confused. "No, it's not like that. I would never hurt her. I... I loved her. She was the only thing good in my life."

He placed his head in his hands again, unsuccessfully trying to hide his tears.

"Thanks for your time, we'll get back to you shortly." Rigsby told Nicolas as he and Issy stood to leave the room.

They were quickly joined outside by Patrick.

"Well?" Risgby said.

"Hard to tell. I think he's a little stoned so that messes up readings. He was there at the time and people do crazy things when they're high so it's possible." Patrick seemed unconvinced, though. He looked at Issy. "How about we go and see Angelica's father. See if he knows anything about Nicolas."

* * *

After another rather terrifying journey with Patrick, he and Issy made their way up the gravel path of the Walters farm house. Issy smiled as she saw a black and white dog bounding towards them. It stopped about 10 meters away and eyed them warily. Issy crouched down and whistled. The dog took a few steps forward slowly and trotted towards Issy happily, tongue lolling and tail whipping from side to side. Issy was stroking the dog when a woman of about her age walked angrily towards them from behind.

"You again?" She directed at Patrick. "What do you want this time?"

"We're here to ask your husband what he knows about Nicolas Pearson." Patrick explained.

"Right, well _I_ don't know anything about him, so am I free to go? Or are you going to accuse me of murder again?" She didn't wait for an answer as she staggered unsteadily in her heels up the uneven road towards the house.

"You always make such a good first impression?" Issy asked Patrick sarcastically.

"Not as good as you." He said nodding towards the dog, who had now rolled onto its back playfully at Isabella's feet. "You're like the dog whisperer or something."

She rolled her eyes. "Hardly."

They made their way up to the building, dog at their heels, and, after Mr Walters met them at the door, entered the house. They took a seat on the same mismatching furniture that Patrick had sat in earlier.

"Hi, Mr Walters, I'm agent Sanders and I believe you've already met Patrick? We're here just to ask you about a man named Nicolas Pearson. Have you heard of him?"

Joey Walters sighed. "Yeah, he's a real trouble maker. Been on drugs since before he got out of diapers. Angie told me she'd stopped seeing him months ago."

"She met with him last night around the time of her death. Seems like she wasn't being entirely truthful with you." Patrick said.

"You think he killed her? Because I swear to God, if he had anything to do with it, I'll kill him."

"It's possible. Were questioning him currently." Patrick told Joey, his eyes drawn to Denise who had entered the room.

"What's this?" She asked her husband.

"That bastard Pearson kid killed Angelica." He rose to his feet furiously.

"Calm down, honey. You'll end up back in hospital again." Denise told Joey calmly, helping him back down into the chair. She looked at Patrick scornfully. "That's where I went this morning. To pick up medicine."

Patrick nodded doing his best to look a little ashamed of himself. "Well, thank you for your time, we'll let you know when we have any other information."

They left and headed for the car.

"What do you think of the wife?" Patrick asked.

Issy thought for a moment before replying. "She made me a little uncomfortable. She's rather... vulture like, isn't she? It might seem a little uncharitable, but he owns a lot of expensive land and there is a hell of an age gap. I mean, why else marry someone so different to you if not for the money? It puts her in a good position for the murder, but I don't really believe that she did it."

"Me neither." He looked at his watch, noting the late time and added."We'd better head back."

They began the journey back and Issy realized just how exhausted she was. Her eyelids drooped and she was incapable of stopping herself from yawning. Every now and then Patrick would accelerate slightly and Issy, frightened for her life, would jolt to alertness.

"Would you stop that?" Issy asked, grumpy with drowsiness.

"Nah, it's fun." He said with a grin."You're not exactly talking much so I've got to entertain myself."

Issy sighed, forcing herself to stay awake. She looked out of the window at the currently setting sun, admiring the swirl of vibrant colors. She stifled another yawn, saying, "so what do you wanna talk about?"

"How you're doing, perhaps?" He asked, glancing at her to check her reaction.

"Fine. A little tired." Issy said, continuing to look out of the window.

"But how are you feeling... in general?" He broached carefully. "This is your first day back at work since the murders."

She cleared her throat before answering. "It's tough. But it's fine, I can handle it."

"I'm sure, but it helps to know you have someone there to listen to you. The guys at CBI are great, and they've had hardships, but they don't know what this is like. What I'm saying is, if you need to talk, about anything, then I'm all ears." He finished on a lighter note, attempting to put a stop to quite a depressing conversation.

"Thanks."

They were quiet for a while, the only sounds being that of the day slowly winding down and the comfortable silence between the two in the blue Citroen. Issy pondered what Patrick had said to her. Her thoughts had been no ones but her own for the last 12 weeks and she'd thought about her family almost solely for that time, not that she'd told anyone this. She hadn't grown close enough to the people she had met volunteering and although her friends back in Truckee had been more than helpful, they had their own lives to lead and she couldn't help but feel like she was bothering them. But Patrick was different; she didn't feel like she was burdening him with what she had to say, as he knew first hand what she was going through. It was for this reason that she restarted the conversation, eyes never leaving the window.

"I nearly cried today when I saw a girl wearing a hat similar to one that Liz owned. I thought I'd gotten past that stage, of breaking down whenever I smell Richard's cologne on a shirt I haven't washed or hear a child shouting that sounds like one of my own. You know, some mornings I wake up and forget that it's happened. I think that Rich has gone for a jog and that the kids are still tucked up in bed, until I realize that I'm sleeping in some cheap apartment that it breaks my heart to return to every day because it means that it was all real, and that it wasn't just a bad dream." Isabella's voice started to break and she brought her hand to her face swiftly to wipe away falling tears.

"You're coping with all of this extremely well, you know." Patrick said, he thought sincerely until he heard Isabella's scoff. "No, honestly. You're doing a lot better than I did. It's a testament to your strong character."

After a few moments, Issy looked at Patrick, asking, "and how are you feeling, about the whole Red John thing?"

"It's always one step forward and two steps back with him. He has people everywhere. But we will find him. He has to make a mistake at some point."

Issy nodded, agreeing. "Yes, we will."

"You'll help?" Patrick asked.

"Of course. You helped me to catch Simon." Issy said, confused as to why he would need to ask. "And even if you hadn't I would. Can't say I condone your chosen method of revenge, but that's up to you. So what do I need to know about the case?"

Patrick was surprised by how much Isabella knew about the Red John case already and so really only needed to fill her in on some of the more secret information kept out of the public eye. They spent the rest of the journey getting Issy up to speed. Details of some of the crime scenes sickened her, and only made Issy more determined to bring the man to justice. But as she realized just how deeply some of his alliances ran, she couldn't hide her worry. No wonder he hadn't been caught; the man was smart. But they would be smarter, eventually.

He dropped Issy off at her the CBI building to collect her car before heading back to wherever it was that Patrick would be sleeping that day. She actually feared for her life driving home as her concentration was not at it's peak. Her slight fear of the road had been instilled in her from working for the police for so many years. She'd had plenty of experience with crash sites and didn't intend to be a victim herself which led to her over cautiousness.

Following the quick journey to her apartment, she entered the building, throwing her keys onto a table and readying the microwave for another incredibly unhealthy meal, not caring about calorie intake in the slightest. She was exhausted both physically and mentally and even in the best frame of mind cooking was never exactly on her list of fun things to do. She'd left that to Rich, who had learnt at a young age courtesy of his mother. She ate slowly, watching some reality show that took little effort to follow and headed to bed early. She hoped that given how tired she was she would be able to sleep through the night regardless of her early retirement to bed.

Unfortunately, Issy's imagination had other ideas, filling her dreams with twisted images of Red John victims and the lifeless bodies of her own family. She screamed herself awake on numerous occasion during the night and got out of the bed the following morning feeling no more refreshed than she had when she'd gone to sleep. Sighing, she dragged herself, exhausted, to her feet and showered slowly, not realizing the time and forcing her to rush to work to arrive on time.

"Didn't sleep again?" Patrick asked after glancing over her.

Boy, he really knew how to make a girl self conscious. She didn't think she had looked that bad when she left this morning, but Patrick had a way of making people doubt themselves.

Issy shook her head to the rhetorical question.

"Get yourself some sleeping tablets. They work wonders." He said, stretching cat-like and content, as though demonstrating the appeal of the pills.

"The over the counter stuff isn't strong enough and I'm not talking to a doctor or a shrink." Issy said. "It'll stop soon enough."

Patrick made a noise that demonstrated that neither were convinced of the truth of this.

Lisbon arrived soon after, designating everyone jobs and heading to her office. Issy was with Cho for the day, while Jane, Rigsby and Van Pelt were to go to the school at which Angelica had worked. The two at the office had been asked to look into her life to see of there was anything suspicious that might give an indication for the motive of her death. The Pearson boy was still Issy's favorite for the murder, but he had seemed genuinely upset when he'd heard the news. This is what had led Lisbon to want to expand the pool of suspects. Issy checked through her call records for the past few weeks. She uncovered what she expected, largely; mostly calls to Joey Walters and Nicholas. There were a few unsaved numbers that Issy noted to ring later.

"Think it was drug related?" Cho asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over them for the last hour or so.

"Possibly." Issy responded. "But is Pearson really big enough in the business to have someone killed over him? His record seems pretty small time to me."

"Little fish can become big fish really quickly in the drug world. There are a couple of big dealers in that area, so he could've been picked up by one of them to sell in his neighborhood."

At this point, Lisbon walked over to talk to them. "We've just got results back from the lab. Traces of cocaine have been found in Angelica's pockets."

Issy frowned. She didn't know the girl but she didn't seem the type to be so hypocritical about her views. She also doubted that she would have kept cocaine on her when meeting with the kids; she seemed to be working very hard to get the children to stay out of stuff like that.

"Interview Nicholas Pearson again. I'll get someone to bring him in. Find out why she had the drugs on her." Lisbon ordered, receiving a 'yes boss' from Cho.

* * *

"So what did you think of Miss Walters?" Van Pelt asked an aging teacher sporting an elbow patched jacket and worn grey trousers.

"Well, she was a nice enough girl. I see no reason for this to have happened to her." The man said with a sigh and shake of his head.

"Hmm." Patrick mused. "Not true. What was your first thought when you heard the news? That she got what was coming to her, spending so much time with those hopeless kids, right? Am I right?" He goaded as the teacher spluttered in front of him.

"Not exactly, no. But what she was doing was dangerous. Those kids come from bad places. Some of them don't want to be saved. And here she came, all good Samaritan wanting to wave a magic wand over them, I've seen it a thousand times. The graduates come in, bursting with arrogance and desperate to make a change and living up to very little in the end."

"We spoke to some of your colleagues and most of them seemed to notice a improvement in the students that were being helped by Angelica." Van Pelt told the man, a little defensively.

"Well that may be the case in art or gym, but in real subjects like math I saw, if any thing, a decline in attentiveness." He told them, a sneer in his voice. "Now, if that's all agents, I have an AP class to teach, full of students who want to learn."

He turned to leave, entering his classroom without seeing Patrick's mocking face. Grace smirked and shook her head lightly.

"So what next?" She asked.

"We meet up with Rigsby and talk to some drug dealers." Patrick replied simply.

Agent Rigsby had been questioning other teachers that may have noticed something suspicious about Angelica's behavior leading up to her death but returned the same information as the others; that she had been her cheerful self when she'd left work on Friday and that they were as surprised as everyone else to hear the news.

"If you were a dealer around here, where would you set up?" Patrick asked the two agents as they left the school building.

"I don't know, the park maybe?" Rigsby guessed.

Patrick grinned. "Bingo. Right where our body was found, in fact."

They set off for the park, stopping on the way for Patrick, and then Rigsby after gentle persuasion from the former, to pick up an ice cream cone. The three walked rather aimlessly around the park, Jane enjoying himself perhaps a little more than he should given he was investigating a murder, with his shirt sleeves rolled up and suit jacket folded over his arm. They rounded a corner to find half a dozen large men, the majority of being over 6 feet tall and incredibly bulky, huddled together and discussing something of importance.

"I'm just gonna wait over here." Patrick whispered, back away from the agents and motioning to a nearby tree. At that moment, his phone rang, indicating an incoming call from Isabella. He answered quickly. "Ah, couldn't find anything out so you're checking up on me?"

"On the contrary. Pearson sang like a bird as soon as we mentioned bringing his mom in for questioning so I'm ringing to let you know about Angelica's involvement with a Carl Johnson. He seems to be the ringleader of a lot of the drug trade in the area. Apparently Angelica had met with him a couple of times to discuss Nicholas leaving the drug scene but it turned pretty ugly. Johnson was having none of it and threatened her numerous times, both in person and through Nicholas." Issy told him, quite pleased with her discoveries.

"Good work, Sanders! I mean, I already knew a lot of it, but still, kudos. Anything else for me?' Patrick asked, finishing off his ice cream.

"Uh yeah, one last thing." She started a little deflated. "There's a number that kept cropping up in Angelica's call history, I can't seem to track it so I was wondering if you could find out who it belongs?" She told him the number, which he quickly saved it into his phone, and they disconnected.

Patrick dialed the number, watching the group in front of him. If his hunch was correct, and it usually was, he expected the smallest of the group to reach for his phone at any second. Unsurprisingly to Patrick, this is exactly what happened.

"What?" His voice was gruff and deep, and clearly annoyed that he was being bothered.

"Hello. Is this Carl Johnson?" Patrick asked, still watching the man intently.

"Who wants to know?" The man was getting more agitated by the second, much to Patrick's delight.

"Patrick. Patrick Jane." He spoke into the phone, waving slightly to get Carl's attention.

"Is this joker with you?" Patrick heard him ask the agents before he ended the call.

He walked over to join them. "Hi Carl, hi everyone." He motioned to everyone before focusing back on the smallest member of the group. "Just need to ask you something quickly, did you kill Angelica Walters?"

Carl looked around at his associates who shifted uncomfortably around him. "No, I did not. And who said I'm this Johnson you're talking about?"

"You did. I mean, come on, you're obviously the brains of the operation, these are just the muscle. Besides, I know I'm not the tallest man in the world, but you have a serious small man complex. What are you, 5" 5? You're obviously overcompensating."

Johnson's jaw set and he looked up to the man in front of him. "Listen, pal. I didn't kill that girl. If I wanted to, you'd still be looking for her. Sure, I threatened her a couple of times, but the bitch didn't know how to keep her nose out of stuff that didn't concern her. Now, if that'll be all officers." He turned away from them to the brutes surrounding him.

Deciding that this was perhaps a battle best fought when numbers were in their favor, the three left the park and headed back to the office, hoping to piece together the information that they had discovered.


	4. Chapter 4

**I feel like the ball's rolling again with my writing! Woohoo! I've been unbelievably bust recently but hopefully that will all ease off shortly so I'll have more free time. Plus I've started re-watching the old episodes to sustain me during the week before the new episodes are on... I hope you enjoy this chapter! Finally closing Issy's first case as an official member of the CBI! Please let me know what you think if you get a minute.  
**

* * *

"Johnson is a violent man with previous as long as your arm. Things have quietened down more recently, most likely because he's been getting other people to do his dirty work for him." Lisbon addressed her team. "It's not unlikely that Angelica was killed by him if she was attempting to stop Nicholas from dealing. Johnson wouldn't stand for someone losing him money like that, and it's not as though his threats are empty; he's been questioned in connection to multiple murders but never held for very long. We'll have to find something and make it stick if we're in with a chance of convicting him this time."

"And what about the cocaine found on Angelica? If that was stolen then that's an even greater motive isn't it?" Van Pelt said.

"Yeah, if we can get that out of him we might be able to get him talking." Rigsby added.

"We'll bring him in tomorrow and question him." Lisbon said and looked to Jane. "In the meantime, see what else you can find out from Nicholas. There might be more he's not telling us."

Van Pelt began ringing the other departments to find out if they had heard anything from Carl Johnson recently that would indicate that this was a crime of his own. The rest of them followed Jane to the interview room in which Nicholas Pearson was being held. Patrick entered the room alone and the others filed into the room behind, watching the exchange through the glass.

"So, Nicholas." Patrick began looking sombre. "We will be charging you if can't give us anything to prove that it wasn't you."

Issy looked at Lisbon shocked.

"He does this sometimes. It's best not to question and just to let him run with it." Lisbon explained.

"No! Please, it wasn't me, I would never do anything to hurt her. I... I really, honestly loved her." Nicholas began to cry silently, streaks running down his face swiftly and dropping onto the table in front of him.

"Hmm. We found traces of cocaine in Angelica's pockets. Any idea how that got there?"

Nicholas looked uncomfortable. "It was mine. She took it off me a few days ago and dumped it somewhere. That's mostly what we argued about that night. I mean it was a few grands worth of stuff, what was I supposed to tell Carl?"

"What did you tell him?" Patrick asked.

"I didn't; I value my life too much. I figured it would be fine if I pawned some of my stuff to make the money."

Jane nodded, contemplating this. And then left the interview room. He joined the agents, telling them, "he didn't do it. I see a lot of grief and guilt, but nothing to suggest he murdered Angelica."

"But what about Carl? He seems good for it; he could have found out about the missing coke and gone after her because of it." Issy added.

"Seems the most likely at this point, but we still need to find the murder weapon. I'll have the local PD search around Johnson's hideout overnight, see if they can uncover anything." Lisbon said. "It's late, you should all get yourselves home."

They dispersed and headed for their cars calling goodbyes to each other. Issy noticed that other than to leave for investigative purposes, she had never seen Patrick exit the bureau. This made sense, she supposed, as he had everything he needed there. If she had been looking for Simon for as long as Patrick had Red John she supposed that she would act similarly.

She traveled to the work early the following morning to find Lisbon and Patrick already there and talking in her office. Carl Johnson was in a holding cell ready to be interviewed and the search team had called earlier that morning to report that they had found nothing but were widening the perimeter.

Not much had come back from Grace's efforts the previous night, though the narcotics department had given a list of Johnson's most aggressive thugs, and so Issy decided that she should try to ascertain their whereabouts on the night of the murder. First, though, there was one final number that she had yet to identify as ian incoming call to Angelica's cell. Patrick and Cho, once the others had arrived, set about interviewing.

Carl sat back in his seat arrogantly, arms folded across his chest and boredom covering his features. His lawyer sat next to him, in a crisp suit with slicked back hair and glasses atop of his crooked nose.

"So, Mr Johnson, when did you first meet Angelica Walters?" Cho began.

"A few months ago when she started snooping." Carl replied lazily.

"She was trying to clean up Nicholas Pearson. He works for you, right?"

"You know he does." Carl looked around the room disinterested.

"You don't seem particularly bothered about being a suspect in a murder investigation." Patrick observed.

Johnson looked at Patrick, eyebrows slightly raised. "And why should I be bothered? I didn't kill that girl. What reason would I have to? She was just a squawking baby bird, she could do nothing to me."

"Easy to kill a baby bird, isn't it?" Patrick probed. "She was on your turf, and you contacted her on the night of her murder, and from what we've heard you weren't making idle chit chat. You threatened her on numerous occasions, maybe this time you followed through with your promises."

Carl leant forward somewhat threateningly, leering at Patrick who himself wore a slight smile. "If I had killed that girl, you would never find her."

"Carl-" His lawyer started, stopping abruptly when Johnson raised his hand menacingly to silence him.

"Now, if you have the evidence, charge me. But considering I know you don't I would advise you to let me go before my lawyer here takes this up with your superiors."

"We can still charge you for dealing." Cho told the smug man.

Carl scoffed. "Yeah, you give that a go. Who will testify against me? Nicholas? He wouldn't dare. He knows what I'm capable of."

"Murder?" Jane shrugged.

Johnson smirked. "I like you. No. I'm no murderer. I've never been one for getting dirty." He put his hand on his heart to convey his sincerity. He leaned back in his chair once more, indicating that he was done talking.

Cho and Patrick left the room and were met by Teresa who had been watching the interview.

"Bring all of his known associates in. Threaten them with 15 to 20 and see if they'll be as loyal then." Lisbon told Cho.

"He's a tricky one. No doubt he's done some bad things in the past but this murder? I'm not sure." Jane said.

At that moment, Isabella joined them. "I've traced the incoming number on Angelica's phone. It looks to be from the Pearson's landline, but the call was made at 8.30 when Nicholas claimed to have just left Angelica."

"Why would he need to call her again after their argument?" Lisbon asked Patrick. "Unless to warn her about Johnson?"

"Possible." Jane said, his mind wandering.

Lisbon's cell rang and she answered it quickly. "Hello? Yes, that's great, thank you. Send it to be fingerprinted for me, will you? Thanks." She disconnected. "They found the murder weapon; a baseball bat covered in blood discarded in a bin at Nicholas' house."

"Could be planted?" Issy suggested.

"Maybe, but I doubt it. I think we have our murderer." Patrick said.

* * *

"You own a baseball bat Nicholas?" Lisbon asked.

"Uh, sure. I used to play little league. Why?" Nicholas said, frowning slightly in confusion.

"We found this at your house earlier. We've found your fingerprints all over it and it's covered in blood that we're sure will be confirmed as Angelica's. You might want to start talking, make things a little easier for yourself." Lisbon told him.

"Wait, you've got to be kidding me! I didn't do it, I swear!" Nicholas exclaimed, eyes wide and feral. "I gave the bat to Ange weeks ago. I promise, it wasn't me."

"Well, we'll leave that up to a jury." Patrick said.

Lisbon cuffed the panicking man and lead him from the room. Nicholas continued to plead with her as he was handed over to officers to take him into custody.

"I want to see my son!" A woman's voice called through the office. Ms Pearson emerged followed by a disheveled Rigsby who was asking her to calm down.

She spotted Nicholas and exhaled a visible sigh of relief. "There you are. Now will you please let my son be so that we can go home? Some friends of yours have left you a message that you need to respond to." She gave her son a look that she hoped appeared subtle.

A crowd had gathered to find out what the noise was all about.

"I'm afraid we'll be charging your son with the murder of Angelica Walters. You'll have to let his 'friends' know that he won't be available for a while." Lisbon told Ms Pearson.

Her jaw dropped and she stuttered. "No! You can't arrest him, he didn't do anything!"

"How can you be so sure?" Patrick interjected. "You told us yourself that he wasn't near you at the time of the murder."

"He just... I know he didn't." She said.

"Not good enough to prove his innocence, really. Take him away." Patrick pushed, watching the woman carefully.

"Wait! I know he didn't do it." Ms Pearson paused, taking a deep breath as though preparing to say something that she didn't really want to. "He couldn't have, because it was me."

All of those watching were stunned into silence. All apart from Patrick Jane, who smiled arrogantly and 'aha'ed.

"Mom?" Nicholas said, disbelieving. She couldn't meet his eye.

"I think we'd better have a little chat, don't you?" Lisbon said to the now very forlorn looking woman, guiding her to an interview room.

"I don't know what I was thinking." Mary Pearson told Lisbon and Patrick. "She was getting too involved with Nicholas and I couldn't have that happen. Nick was making more money in a week than I used to make in 3 months, and she was trying to stop him? I don't think so!"

"So you called Angelica that night, asked her to back off, and when she didn't listen you went to see her. Prepared, with a baseball bat, to kill her." Jane filled in the gaps with a confidence that made Issy, who was watching from another room, believe that he had known about this for quite some time.

"No! No, I never went with the intention of hurting her! I just wanted to... I don't know, scare her a little. Look, I know what I did was wrong, but she was endangering my son's way of life, my way of life! The bat was just there. She was so prim and proper and doesn't understand how hard it is for me." Mary tried to explain.

"Didn't." Patrick corrected the tense.

Mary looked down, ashamed, and starting to cry.

They had heard enough, so Jane and Lisbon left the room and regrouped with the other agents. "We have a confession."

"But what about Johnson?" Issy asked. "He's obviously pretty dangerous, is there nothing we can do about him?"

Lisbon turned to addressed Cho. "Did we find anything useful from Johnson's crew?"

"No. I think they've gone into hiding; just waiting to crawl out of the woodwork when Johnson reappears."

"Damn." Lisbon said, before raising her voice to ask, "any ideas Jane?"

Issy looked around to find that Patrick was no longer stood with them all, but lying on the worn leather sofa that he seemed to like so much.

"Not yet." He replied. "He's a tricky one. I think he's smarter than he looks, too. I'm not sure we'll find out anything useful from Nick; he hadn't been 'initiated' yet. I'm not sure that he ever will be. He's more of a pawn to the bigger guys' rooks and knights."

Rigsby looked slightly disappointed. "Doesn't give us much to go on, really."

"Well then," Patrick started, having reappeared beside Isabella, "case closed. Or semi-closed if you want to include Johnson, but let's be positive and not, shall we? It's pretty much leaving time, so what do we all say to Mama's?"

Without waiting for an answer, he strolled towards the elevator.

"Mama's?" Issy asked Van Pelt for an explanation.

"Oh, it's just a pizza place we go to sometimes after a case." She smiled kindly at her. "The Hawaiian is awesome, not that we get to try it much..."

Cho shot her a look and Grace smirked back.

"I'll meet you guys in the lot, there's just something I need to get first." Issy told them all, forcing a smile.

She walked over to her desk, checked that no one was around and supported herself by her hands, trying desperately to regulate her breathing. Why was she being like this? It was ridiculous. They were only going for pizza. She couldn't recall the last time she had eaten it, but knew that it was months ago, as every time a takeaway pamphlet embellished with glossy pictures of gooey cheese and thick dough was pushed through her letter box she threw it straight in the bin. Eating pizza in the Sanders' household had become somewhat of a tradition as her children had grown up, and many years before that was the one meal that Rich and she would agree on when ordering take out. Previously to that, even, it was her mother's favorite. So many good things were previously associated with it, but now even the thought of it made her stomach churn and her heart beat faster. As she tried to calm herself, she could not stop the same memory from replaying itself in her mind.

_It had been several months since her mothers passing, and the grief of Issy's loss was slowly reaching the point at which she could celebrate the good rather than dwelling on the bad. She and Rich had grown virtually inseparable during this time, and he had put up with her random mood swings as though they were nothing. Ever since Elizabeth had gotten ill, Richard was a completely changed man. Issy noticed an almost visible difference to the person she now called her boyfriend; he had matured and grown into someone incredibly tolerant and loving. She had given herself to him in every way but one, finding that the idea of sex a terrifying prospect. She had been strong all of her life, only ever showing a vulnerable side to her mother and now somewhat with Richard, but she felt that this took that vulnerability to a completely different level and wasn't sure that she was ready. _

_It was, or should have been, her mother's birthday on this particular day, and she was walking to Rich's place for an evening of self designated depression and heavy drinking. He lived in the same rented apartment that he had when her mother had rang her with the bad news more than 6 months before, and wasn't looking for anywhere different even though his last few weeks as a college student were drawing to a close. He had decided to look for a job locally to support himself while Issy completed her final year, much to the dismay of his parents. He had never brought it up with her, but she had accidentally heard numerous conversations between Richard and his mother that had resulted in raised voiced and the slamming of a phone onto a receiver. Isabella couldn't help but feel like she was to blame for many of the disagreements. _

_Issy arrived at the apartment and was greeted by the sombre face and raised arm of her boyfriend. A bottle of wine was extended towards her and she took it gladly with a sad smile. Without a word, she entered the building and headed towards the living area, sinking into the sofa and placing the neck of the bottle into her mouth to attampt to remove the cork. _

_"Woah." Rich said, taking the bottle back from her gently and going to the kitchen to find a screw. "I'm not going out with someone with no teeth. Bad for my rep." _

_He returned, two filled glasses in hand. The dark red liquid glistened invitingly, promising to blunt the pain and dull her emotions. It wouldn't be for the first time that she had given in and gotten herself into a such a state that Richard had had to carry her half unconscious body back to his place so that she could sleep off the absolute drunkenness in his bed while he was resigned to the sofa on which she now sat. Issy took a sip, letting the warmness fill her body as she swallowed. _

_"It's good." Issy commented. _

_"Yeah, I thought it would be nice to get a better bottle for tonight." _

_Isabella put the glass down carefully, mind wandering back to her mother as it had done since her death. "Did I ever tell you about the time that my mom got completely drunk at a work do and staggered in at, like, 3 in the morning? She was so not like that at all." Issy smiled at the memory before frowning. "I sat with her as she threw her guts up the next morning, holding back her hair as she made me promise to never let myself get into the same mess." _

_She paused for a moment before reaching for her glass and downing it. She felt bad about breaking her promise, but she would do pretty much anything to avoid the pain of not being with her mother on her birthday. Richard looked nervously at her empty glass._

_"Pizza?" He asked her, knowing that this was her go-to food when she was upset._

_"Pizza." She agreed, reaching for the bottle of wine to refill her glass._

She was being stupid, and she knew it. It was pizza, and that's all is was. This was a new chapter in her life and that was how she needed to look at it. Pizza was no longer about watching movies with her mom, or a drunken take-out with Rich, or a night in with her family. It was about closing cases at her new job with her new colleagues. And that was okay.

She took a deep breath and made her way down the stairs to go and get some damn pizza.

* * *

"No, I'm serious!" Isabella insisted as some of her colleagues shook their heads disbelievingly. "He stole 289 dollars and then took it all back the next day with a bunch of flowers to apologize!"

"Wow, I wish we had more cases like that around here." Rigsby mused, chuckling lightly.

"Yeah, we had our fair share of gruesome stuff, but it sure made the day go quicker when you could laugh about cases like that."

They had arrived at Mama's about 20 minutes before and were waiting for their pizza to come. In the meantime, they had ordered drinks (all alcoholic apart from Issy's water) which were due to be replaced.

"I'll get the next round in." Patrick announced, getting to his feet.

Issy stood, too. "I'll give you a hand."

They walked to the bar together where Patrick ordered 5 bottles of beer.

"Are you sure I can't get you anything else?" He directed at her.

She smiled but shook her head. "Water's fine for me, thanks."

Issy was conscious of the fact that she the odd one out but felt that drinking had once become a pretty slippery slope for her and was scared that if she wasn't careful she may end up in the same situation that she had during the months after her mother's death.

"You don't need to worry about drinking, you know." Patrick told her as they waited for the beer's. "You're more mature now. You won't react the same way as you did when you were young." He paused before adding. "Besides, I'll look after you if you do get pissed."

Patrick beamed at her and Issy couldn't help but laugh.

By the time they made it back to their table, the food had arrived. As they continued to share stories of previous cases and funny anecdotes, Issy ate the most she had done in months, and, she had to admit, it was pretty good.


End file.
